Movie: Kinsey. Much of what I know about Albert
Kinsey came from a Stephen Jay Gould essay, so the connection between
Kinsey's sex studies and his entomology didn't come as a surprise,
but it's good to see such background given further exposure. Much
that could be said about this film. I am struck by the awkwardness
of the first (pre-Kinsey) human sexuality class, where one expects
reason and scientific rigor but gets myths meant to reinforce the
conventional moral expectations. Sad to say, this is a problem
that still plagues us -- especially here in Kansas, where Susan
Wagle led a political inquisition to kill a K.U. human sexuality
class for using less explicit graphics than Kinsey used. (Similar
problems exist in the perennial creationism vs. evolution debate,
which is back on the Kansas BOE agenda after the 2004 elections.)
Two especially striking scenes illuminate the terror that those
myths caused: one where Kinsey interviews his father (John Lithgow),
the other an interview with an elderly lesbian (Lynn Redgrave). On
the other hand, the shattering of so much myth has its own darker
side, which the film also explores. A

My third Jazz Consumer Guide column will be published in the Village
Voice on Tuesday, January 4, 2005. I jot down notes and trial runs at
CG reviews as I go along, and they pile up in the "done" file. When I
publish a column, I move the "done" files into the notebook -- a good
place to preserve them, without them getting in the way of ongoing
work. The following are the notes/drafts for the records covered by
the Jazz CG #3. (326 records in file before this purge.)

Geri Allen/Dave Holland/Jack DeJohnette: The Life of a Song
(2004, Telarc).
The achievement here is as much sonic as musical: Holland's bass has
rarely been rendered so clearly. When you focus on it, it is the center
of a universe where piano and drums flash through the sky like meteors.
A-

Steven Bernstein: Diaspora Hollywood (2004, Tzadik).
What if the Jews who scored '40s Hollywood movies and the Jews who
chilled west coast jazz in the '50s had reached deeper into their
ethnic legacy? That's the concept here: mostly traditional pieces,
played soundtrack-style not as social music but for atmospheric
effect. Special treat: X drummer D.J. Bonebrake, playing vibes.
A-

Big Satan (Berne, Rainey, Ducret): Souls Saved Hear
(2003 [2004], Thirsty Ear).
Tom Rainey's perpetually broken time gives this trio a lurching
stutter step that Tim Berne's sax abstraction only makes more
cartoonish. Marc Ducret's guitar provides the sinew that keeps
the works from flying apart, and fills in stretches of relative
calm when his cohorts take a breather. Berne's albums always hew
close to the edge. It's a pleasure for once to hear one that
doesn't crash.
A-

Chicago Underground Trio: Slon (2004, Thrill Jockey).
The two most distinctive cuts here are the first two, which represent
the far poles of their experimentation: "Protest" is acoustic, a fast
beat propelled mostly by Noel Kuppersmith's bass, with spectacular
cornet from Rob Mazurek; "Slon" is electronic, an odd, fractured
beat with little blips on the side, with the cornet adding a bare
wash of color. The rest lean toward the electronics, but the real
kick more often comes from the cornet soaring over Chad Taylor's
drums. Synthesis may not be the point, as each experiment holds its
own fascination. And why be underground if not to experiment?
A-

Denis Colin Trio: Something in Common (2001 [2004],
Sunnyside).
Not quite a throwback to the black power jazz of the early '70s:
the trio is French; the instruments are bass clarinet, cello, and
zarb; the lead song is Wyclef Jean's "Diallo." But that's the spirit.
Most songs have vocals: rappers, soul sisters, gospel group. They
play Hendrix ugly, Stevie Wonder sweet; they transcribe Coltrane,
Rollins, Shepp, John Gilmore; and they go pan-African with Beaver
Harris.
A-

Chick Corea Elektric Band: To the Stars (2004, Stretch).
The problem with fusion wasn't that good jazz was cheapened by crass
rock and roll. The problem was that so many fusioneers were fooled by
bad rock. Corea reconvened his 1986-93 Elektrik Band to power through
a suite of pieces based on the L. Ron Hubbard sci-fi novel, and you
can guess the rest: vintage space opera that Pink Floyd or Hawkwind
wouldn't have touched under LSD, soundtrack melodramatics without
visual cues, and a fresh coat of Jelly Roll's Famous Latin Tinge.
C

Firehouse: Live at the Glenn Miller Café (2004, Ayler).
The hype here touts this as "jazz-rock n' roll the way it should sound!"
What they mean is that Firehouse is led by an electric guitarist, John
Lindblom, who's into dirty power chords (i.e., rock n' roll), while
the rest of the band is a jazz combo (tenor sax, trumpet, bass, drums).
There is some truth to the assertion, but what this fusion takes from
rock is the raw sound and power of hardcore thrash, which it fuses
with the raw sound and power of the '60s high energy jazz avant garde.
This is an exhilarating mix, at least at first. The horns (Fredrik
Ljungkvist and Magnus Broo) also play in Atomic, which teamed up
recently with Ken Vandermark's School Days, to similar effect, but
here they mostly pile on top of the guitar. More like punk-jazz.
B+

Satoko Fujii Quartet: Zephyros (2004, NatSat).
Her crashing entrance here shows why she gets compared to Cecil
Taylor. Then she backs off a bit and lets the band do some work.
The rhythm section was built for speed, with Takeharu Hayakawa's
propulsive electric bass filling out the bottom. On the other hand,
husband/trumpeter Natsuki Tamura prefers to wax lyrical even when
surrounded by chaos -- which gives this music a touching voice,
although what impresses most is the finely drawn manga violence
of Fujii's piano.
A-

Satoko Fujii Trio: Illusion Suite (2003 [2004], Libra).
Very different from her *Zephyros* quartet (seems like all her albums are
very different). Rigorously avant, I don't think I've ever heard Black or
Dresser in better form, and what she does is very distinctive. The title
piece runs 34:04, much of it stretched out, but very impressive when
they kick up the energy.
B+

Eddie Gale: Afro-Fire (2004, Black Beauty).
After his apprenticeship with Sun Ra and Cecil Taylor, Gale cut two
deep, grooveful albums for Blue Note in 1968-69 (Ghetto Music
and Black Rhythm Happening, reissued recently on Water), then
essentially nothing until this year. Like the Blue Notes, this one
has an affinity for the rhythm of the people, but these days that
is mostly cranked out through synths. For instance, his Sun Ra
tribute draws as much on Afrika Bambaataa. The years out of the
action may also have taken something away from his trumpet -- less
limber and not as bright as in the '60s -- but it may also be that
he prefers to retrench in Miles Davis' funk period.
B+

Jan Garbarek: In Praise of Dreams (2004, ECM).
The synths and drums are minimal: most of this stark, lovely album
is built around a single string player (Kim Kashkashian on viola),
with Garbarek improvising much as he's done for two decades now
over all sorts of exotic tableaux. His tone is clear as the frozen
Nordic landscape he evokes almost automagically, but ultimately
this turns out to be just another sax and strings album, reduced
to its absolute minimum.
B+

Jerry Gonzalez y los Piratas del Flamenco (2001 [2004],
Sunnyside).
In the gypsy flamenco that Gonzalez encountered on moving from New York
to Madrid he found a third leg to his fusion of rumba and Monk. The old
world is evident in Nino Josele's guitar and Diego El Cigala's vocals,
but the rhythms sound Afro-Cuban. This record came from a rehearsal
tape, with most tracks limited to two or three musicians. One is just
conga and cajon; others muted trumpet, guitar, and percussion. And,
of course, Monk goes flamenco, with hand claps.
A-

The Great Jazz Trio: Someday My Prince Will Come
(2002-03 [2004], Eighty-Eights/Columbia).
Hank Jones has used this group name several times before, starting in
1976 with Buster Williams and Tony Williams. This time he's joined by
Richard Davis and Elvin Jones. I haven't heard the earlier editions,
but I gather that the point is to show off the bass-drums stars, else
this would just be a Hank Jones trio record (and there are plenty of
those). Indeed, Davis gets prime time, with a fine arco solo on "Moose
the Mooche." But in retrospect let's dedicate this one to the late
great Elvin Jones, who even gives "Caravan" a new lease on life. Last
chance to hear him on something new.
B+

Mats Gustafsson/Sonic Youth With Friends: Hidros 3
(2000 [2004], Smalltown Supersound).
The spine just says "Mats Gustafssons Hidros 3" so I'm doing some name
dropping per the sticker. One could further note that this is dedicated
to Patti Smith, but the significance of that isn't obvious. Nor is this
really a Sonic Youth record, although Lee Ranaldo and Thurston Moore
are two of the four guitarists involved, Kim Gordon wrote lyrics and
sings (declaims shrilly is more like it) four times, and Jim O'Rourke
did a real-time mix of streams of music coming in from separated rooms.
Gustafsson wrote the music and plays contrabass sax, an extremely low
pitched instrument with limited acoustic range, so when he rips off a
solo it sounds more like a drugged bull elephant than his usual whining
stallion. The dominant sound, then, comes from the guitars and scattered
electronics, a long recombinant metallic grind. Interesting experiment,
remarkable when it comes together at the end, with Gordon complaining
that "men talk to other men through fashion" and teasing Lou Reed's
"I just don't know" until it becomes "I just don't know what to wear."
B+

Helen Merrill: Lilac Wine (2002 [2004], Sunnyside).
The once and future Jelena Milcetic, one of the great jazz singers
of the latter half-century (and we mean all of it; her early cohort
Clifford Brown has been dead 48 years now), is still in remarkably
fine voice, but her excursions in Eastern Europe have saddled her
with some dull, dreary orchestras. This time it is a 32-piece group
in Prague, and they plod through a set of pieces from "Wild Is the
Wind" to "Love Me Tender" and something by Radiohead as slow and
surreal as a coma.
B-

Bob Mintzer Big Band: Live at MCG With Special Guest Kurt
Elling (2004, MCG Jazz).
As a big band date, the sound is washed out a bit, the section work
nothing special, the soloists (especially Mintzer) not bad. They have
a slight inclination to delve south of the border, but they aren't
especially good at it. But the problem I have isn't the big band;
it's Kurt Elling, a hugely hyped jazz singer who embodies damn near
everything I've never liked about '50s jazz vocalists -- especially
those midway between crooning and hipsterism. Especially when he
dumps a load of scat, he sounds like a caricature.
C+

Paal Nilssen-Love/Ken Vandermark: Dual Pleasure 2
(2003 [2004], Smalltown Supersound, 2CD).
Two more discs of intense interplay between drums and tenor sax or
clarinet: one from the studio session that yielded last year's
Dual Pleasure, the other recorded live at Kampen Jazz in
Oslo. Nothing new here for anyone who's heard the previous set,
just a lot more of it. It does seem like more clarinet (at least
on the first disc), a more subdued instrument which they take in
more abstract directions. But the tenor sax duos are avant-honk,
as you'd expect.
B+

Paradigm Shift: Shifting Times (2004, Nagel Heyer).
At first I thought of this as an uncommonly sharp crossover group, but
closer examination reveals that it is basically a throwback to the soul
jazz groups of the '60s: organ-guitar-drums are the constant across
the whole album; the other instruments are brought in for a song or
two: trumpet, trombone, saxophone, vibes. Or more properly, it's an
update. The core group is Melvin Henderson (guitar), Gerry Youngman
(organ), and Ted Poor (drums), but the featured guests give them a
lot of looks and angles. They're ready to cross over, but not to beg.
B+

Adam Pieronczyk: Amusos (2002 [2003], PAO).
Singer Mina Agossi opens like a tipsy Sheila Jordan, unsettling until
you refocus on the band busy pulling the rug out from under her.
Pieronczyk's saxophones add to but rarely emerge from an ether of
bass, cello, beats drummed and synthesized, intent on a postmodern
cool in an arena where nothing is stable, where even the programming
runs free. Agossi asks, "où donc est le bonheur?" Good question.
B+

Don Pullen: Mosaic Select (1986-90 [2004], Mosaic, 3CD).
Pullen had a gimmick: he would turn his hands over and smash out
huge clusters of notes with his knuckles. It was the most astonishing
sound ever to come out of a piano, and he could play in that mode
long enough to take your breath away. But it was less a gimmick than
the ultimate example of his unprecedentedly physical attack on the
piano. He built up harmonies with explosions of dissonant color and
rhythmic complexity, as fast as Art Tatum with his curlicues. But
he died in 1995, at 51 neither a shooting star nor a living legend,
and his records have vanished from print -- especially the eight he
cut for Blue Note from 1986 until his death. This limited edition
brings the first four back, squeezed onto three CDs. The first two
are quartet albums with r&b-flavored saxophonist George Adams. Both
are rousing, especially the first. The next two were trios, where
the focus is even more squarely on his piano. He did much more in
a short career -- he was perhaps the most interesting organist to
emerge since Larry Young, and his later Ode to Life is poignant
and moving -- but this was the pinnacle of his pianistic power.
A

Gonzalo Rubalcaba: Paseo (2004, Blue Note).
A-

Septeto Rodriguez: Baila! Gutano Baila! (Tzadik).
Roberto Juan Rodriguez learned klezmer as a Cuban expatriate in
Miami, working Yiddish theatre companies and bar mitzvahs. His
synthesis of Jewish melodies and Cuban percussion dreams of roots
that never were, yet it is convincing enough that one can imagine
generations of conversos gathering in private to keep the ancient
secrets of their culture alive. This sequel to *El Danzon de
Moises* is less surprising but broader and happier, with touches
of tango and gypsy dance.
A-

Matthew Shipp: Harmony and Abyss (2004, Thirsty Ear).
Shipp's early records were minimal affairs, often duos where he would
project long melodic lines like Bud Powell swept into the avant '90s.
Until he hooked up with Thirsty Ear he never showed much interest in
rhythm, but working for a rock label brought out his inner David Bowie.
Still, he veiled his increasingly rhythmic play behind horn leads.
This one is the breakthrough he advertised on *Nu Bop* and promoted
on *Equilibrium*, and the reason is that finally the masks are gone:
no horns, no vibes, just a piano trio plus programmer Chris Flam, so
Shipp's piano (or synth) is always up front, the pieces differentiated
by rhythm, and the rhythms as varied and creative as Shipp's old melodic
lines.
A

Steve Swallow/Ohad Talmor Sextet: L'Histoire du Clochard:
The Bum's Tale (2002 [2004], Palmetto).
With no drums, two reeds (tenor sax, clarinet), two brass (trumpet,
trombone), violin and Swallow's electric bass, this is chamber music
with virtually no pulse but a lot of color. Swallow wrote the pieces.
Talmor arranged them. The sole saving grace that I can find is Meg
Okura's violin, which could cut through some of the hyperseriousness
if she could let loose. But nobody does.
C+

The Thing: Garage (2004, Smalltown Superjazz).
They start with recent alt-rock songs by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and
White Stripes and turn them into noise fests, then pick one from
Peter Brötzmann to chill out with. Mats Gustafsson is the noise
master, working on tenor and especially baritone sax, slicing
each song to the bone then knicking it up like a bear smacking
its chops. The rhythm section is the back end of Ken Vandermark's
School Days, and Paal Nilssen-Love is especially active: this is
further evidence that he's one of the great drummers working
today, possibly *the* guy in the avant-rock spotlight. Harsh,
nasty, chilling: most people will hate this, but it's close to
being a tour de force. Play it for the young punk who thinks
Black Sabbath is heavy. It will scare the hell out of him.
B+

Tripleplay: Gambit (2003 [2004], Clean Feed).
The delta from Spaceways Inc. to Tripleplay is the replacement of
Hamid Drake with Curt Newton, but switching bassist Nate McBride from
electric to acoustic shifts the emphasis from funk grooves to blues.
Both moves make the band more intimate, and Ken Vandermark responds
with some of his most thoughtful chamber jazz. Even if it feels like
it was made up on the fly, which it probably was.
A-

Warren Vaché: Dream Dancing (2003 [2004], Arbors).
The difference between this and *2Gether*, the duo Vaché and Bill
Charlap cut for Nagel Heyer in 2000, is the difference between a
fine modernist antique and an overstuffed easy chair. With bass
and drums, Charlap eases back, and Vaché settles into his comfort
zone. Now that he's too old to be called a "young fogie" anymore,
maybe the notion that his genteel swing is retro should also be
retired.
A-

Kim Waters: In the Name of Love (2004, Shanachie).
Touted as "the #1 Saxophonist in Smooth Urban Jazz," he gets a sweet,
lustrous tone from his alto, which sounds good on top of the usual
synth mishmash. Starts by covering the latest R. Kelly standard --
it's popped up on at least one competing record as well. Introduces
a song in the middle of the album with "right now we're gonna go
way back" -- way back to Barry White's "Love's Theme," which says
something about his sense of history and tradition. I can't begrudge
him on that one -- I find it even more comic than White's original.
But without a foil like White his lite, brite soul funk doesn't
offer much.
C+

Over the course of the first three Jazz Consumer Guides I've collected
notes on quite a few records that I'm very unlikely to write about there.
I've been carrying these along in the workfile, where they're turning into
clutter. So I'm moving the notes here, effectively to be buried.

Josh Abrams: Cipher (2003, Delmark).
Jeff Parker's guitar has such a pretty ring to it you wonder what he's
doing hanging around with the rest of these guys. I guess it takes all
sorts. Parker's payoff comes with the closer, "For SK," where both
trumpet and clarinet follow him with lovely solos, and even Abrams
lays out some nice bass. So pencil that down as a Choice Cut. Given
the instrumentation, nothing here is plug ugly, but much of it is
rather scattered. The opener ("Mental Politician") has a bass-guitar
groove with the two horns flying off in odd tangents, unsettling the
rhythm. It sets you up looking for expansive freejazz, but the next
two cuts chill out with slow moving tone poems and some of Parker's
pretty guitar. The title cut picks up some static (don't know where
that's coming from). And so it goes.
B

Karrin Allyson: Wild for You (2003 [2004], Concord).
Covers of '70s pop songs, mostly from women's albums -- Joni Mitchell,
Carly Simon, Bonnie Raitt, Carole King, Melissa Manchester -- plus a
little Cat Stevens and Elton John. The Joni Mitchell covers are carbon
copies vocally, except that Mitchell sounded jazzier. In fact, none
of the music sounds like they made much of an effort to jazz up. The
result is as wan as any rock star's oldies album, although the oldies
probably aren't up to the standards of any self-respecting rock star.
C+

The Essential Louis Armstrong (1925-67 [2004],
Columbia/Legacy, 2CD).
Scott Yanow panned Legacy's previous Armstrong compilation, the 4CD
Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, arguing that anyone
who inadvertently purchased the box would be throwing their money
away, because they'd wind up wanting to buy all of the source discs
that it was selected from. That's a pretty hardcore argument. Even
if one were to concede that there's nothing that should be missed
on Columbia's 7CD early Armstrong series -- which is truer than you
can imagine -- the box did a brilliant job sorting out Armstrong's
more marginal period work with King Oliver, Fletcher Henderson, and
scads of blues singers (collected on 6CD by Affinity). However,
limiting Armstrong to two CDs, covering the same early period plus
another thirty-some years, will definitely leave you wanting more.
We can argue about omissions, but it's hard to begrudge anything
that was selected. Notably, Legacy reached out to UMG for the 1936
"Shadrack" and the 1967 "What a Wonderful World," and to BMG for the
1947 "Rockin' Chair," filling in holes in Columbia's own catalog.
A nice gift for the young person you know who don't know squat,
as is the more cost effective (25 classics on one CD, vs. 37 on
two here) Ken Burns Jazz: Louis Armstrong. But get The
Complete Hot Five and Hot Seven Recordings (4CD, on Columbia/Legacy,
or cheaper on JSP) and The California Concerts (4CD, on Decca)
for yourself. And don't expect to be satiated. Yanow was being foolish,
but not stupid.
A

Barbara Balzan Quartet: Tender Awakening (2004, TCB).
The road goes on forever, and the sad songs never end. But cut with
cello, bass and piano, everything sounds sad -- especially in French
or Italian, which crop up here and there. My first take was that this
record is dreadfully dull. Subsequently I've had to revise my estimation:
this record is very skillful at achieving a dreadfully dull finish. But
I'm not sure what the practical difference is.
B

Gary Bartz Ntu Troop: Harlem Bush Music (1970-71
[2004], Milestone).
This stitches together two more albums from the chance historical
meeting of the jazz fringe with the black power masses, originally
released as Uhuru and Taifa, but cut from the same
sessions, with the same group, under the same rubric of "Harlem
Bush Music." Bartz was a hard bop alto saxophonist who had done a
tour with Art Blakey and would soon hook up with Miles Davis, but
while his idiom was bop his fast and furious style came from the
avant-garde. He is joined here by Andy Bey, whose polished jazz
singing softens the edges of Bartz's agitprop lyrics. This renders
"Vietcong" into a catchy hymn, although some lines bear repeating:
"twenty years of fighting for his homeland/he won't give up the
rights for no man." In "Blue (A Folk Tale)" Bartz critiques, "blues
ain't nothing but misery on your mind"; but the blues he makes is
a vehicle of strength and endurance and hope.
A-

Jamie Baum Septet: Moving Forward, Standing Still
(2004, Omnitone).
She's the product of a broad musical education: plays flute, composes
pieces at least as deeply rooted in 20th century European modernism as
the jazz tradition, able to slip in snatches of Latin music. She leads
a skillful group, including Ralph Alessi (the standout here, on trumpet
and flugelhorn), Tom Varner (french horn), and Drew Gress (bass). The
one cover is a bit from Trilok Gurtu, which she works into a medley.
I should be impressed, and to some extent I am, but I also find myself
disinterested.
B

Joshua Breakstone: A Jamais (2003 [2004], Capri).
Straightforward bop, transcribed to guitar in the usual manner, which
is to say as long lines of notes. He gets a distinctive tone on the
guitar: a dull metal thud, with a little reverb. This was done as a
trio, with notable help from Louis Petrucciani on bass, and two cuts
done solo. The absence of a horn keeps the guitar on top. Skillful,
pleasant, just not a lot to it.
B

Bob Brookmeyer: Get Well Soon (2002 [2004], Challenge).
Big band record; what the hell, huge band record. Brookmeyer has a rep
as an arranger, which he shows off in spades here. The band crackles.
Still, who cares?
B+

Lenny Bruce: Let the Buyer Beware (1948-66 [2004],
Shout! Factory).
I wonder how many people born after Bruce's death in 1966 have any
idea who he was. Can't be many: comics don't have much of a shelf
life, especially ones with no tv exposure. Older generations will
know the name, even though few actually saw him perform, heard his
LPs, or read his book. No, he was famous for getting busted -- 15
times in two years, mostly for saying bad words. Bruce was one of
those Jews who adopted a goyische stage name to start his career,
then spent nearly every moment on stage reminding you that he was
Jewish: he savaged Barry Goldwater for changing his religion and
not his name; he ran through lists of entertainers ("the Mills
Brothers were goy; Coleman Hawkins was a Jew; Ben Webster was so
Jewish, he was an orthodox Jew"); he poured so much Yiddish into
his act the box includes a dictionary. Most of his shtick has
dated: even with the biographical notes you had to have lived
through Lawrence Welk and the Lone Ranger to get those bits. He
barely touches politics -- nothing on Vietnam or Israel, but lots
on race and homosexuals and the hypocrisies of the pious and the
merely liberal. And by featuring mostly unreleased tapes the box
aims to flesh out a portrait that only his devoted fans can fully
dig. But excessive and peculiar as it is, those fans fear it may
become timely again. America in the '50s was a cloistered society
of deeply repressed people, and Bruce sliced through all that
false consciousness, with an innocent's faith in simple justice
and a mischievous glee. He didn't live to enjoy the liberating
lifeforce of the '60s, but he had something to do with making
it possible -- in death as much as in life. For most of the years
since he's just been history, but some bits here do seem to be
coming back to life: take his "Religions, Inc." and substitute
Jerry Falwell for Oral Roberts, or let him quote Will Rogers
again, "I never met a dyke I didn't like." So maybe it is time
to resurrect him; after all, Jesus wasn't the only Jew who died
for our sins.
A-

Dave Budbill/William Parker/Hamid Drake: Songs for a Suffering
World (2003, Boxholder).
Incantation and improvisation, subtitled "A Prayer for Peace, a Protest
Against War." Good sentiments, but Budbill's poetry is so obvious and
so forthright it makes me cringe. His eastern religious schtick is also
way beyond my pale, and the constant declamations of "we want to live"
give me second thoughts. A good guy, no doubt, but a little wit, even
a bit of irony would be appreciated. What saves this from a grade down
in the E range is the improvisations, the work of two more good guys,
who also happen to be geniuses. Even so, I would be tempted to point
you to other records they've done together, but I have to note that
they get the spirit here even when Budbill himself goes over the deep
end, and as such they do things here I haven't heard them do elsewhere.
B-

Joey Calderazzo: Haiku (2002 [2004], Marsalis
Music/Rounder).
Solo piano, from a pianist best known for taking over Kenny Kirkland's
chair in the Branford Marsalis Quartet. Plays a piece by Marsalis, one
by Kirkland, one by Cole Porter, another old one called "My One and
Only Love," and a bunch of originals. I don't really see the point of
it all, but it's pleasant enough.
B

Jesse Chandler: Somewhere Between (2003, Fresh Sound).
Chandler plays organ without grits; combined with Mike Moreno's guitar
and limited but tasty sax and reeds, this sounds like uncommonly smart
crossover pop, except that it's not pop, and it's not about to cross
over anywhere. Which makes it just another nice record all dressed up
with nowhere to go.
B

Ray Charles: Genius Loves Company (2004, Concord/Hear
Music).
Having skipped virtually everything Charles recorded after 1965, except
for brief checks on box sets which didn't convince me I had erred, one
thing I can't judge is where this one ranks among his post-Genius work.
I think it depends a lot on your expectations, and on how sympathetic
you feel following his passing. (It was, I have to admit, a nice touch
that the Feds declared a national holiday to memorialize the sad event.)
On the other hand, the fact that this isn't half bad isn't really cause
for rejoicing. It's not a return to form so much as a lot of help from
his friends and admirers, which include the producers who do so much to
prop him up. On the plus side: two old classics with pop jazz singers,
neither as delectable as Roseanna Vitro; a "Fever" that reminds you that
it was his kind of song; and Van Morrison clearing the table with "Crazy
Love." On the down side Willie Nelson bites into the wrong loaf, while
James Taylor, Elton John, and Michael McDonald do nothing to elevate
their sullied reputations. So is the glass half full? Or half empty?
B

Miles Davis: Seven Steps: The Complete Columbia Recordings
of Miles Davis 1963-1964 ([2004], Columbia/Legacy).
Seven discs, starting with a nondescript L.A. studio session released
as Seven Steps to Heaven, stepping through a series of live recordings
including the date in Berlin when Wayne Shorter completed the Quintet,
the most famous Davis group of all. As the pieces come together -- Ron
Carter from the start, Herbie Hancock and Tony Williams to finish the
studio album in New York -- the band starts to sizzle and Davis plays
as imaginatively as ever. In retrospect one likes to see this period
as transitional, but the one disc with Shorter is anticlimactic. One
thing this box should do is give George Coleman, who plays tenor sax
on five discs here, some well deserved respect. Even more intriguing is
the road not taken: Sam Rivers lights up the stage in Tokyo, prodding
Davis to play as far out as he ever got. All but six cuts are previously
released, but only the studio album has been in print recently. When/if
this gets cut up, look first for the Antibes and Japan sets.
A-

Alex DeGrassi: Folk Songs for the 21st Century
(2003, Tropo).
Subtitled "contemporary arrangements for guitar": solo acoustic
guitar (except for two songs, one adding bass, both percussion),
mostly on well worn songs where we are not used to such simple
treatments ("Swing Low Sweet Chariot," "Saint James Informary")
or songs whose inate simplicity makes this treatment seem unduly
fancy ("Shortnin' Bread," "Oh Susanna"). Pleasant, of course,
but compared to its intention this doesn't go very far.
B-

Baby Dodds: Talking and Drum Solos (1946-54 [2003],
Atavistic).
B

Duke Ellington: Piano in the Background (1960-61
[2004], Columbia/Legacy).
New arrangements of old warhorses, designed to feature the piano
player, at least as they start and sometimes for brief breaks. But
with the full orchestra in tow, that's most of what you hear. He
must have been right when he said that his real instrument is the
orchestra.
B+

Duke Ellington: Piano in the Foreground (1957-61
[2004], Columbia/Legacy).
Ellington wasn't a great pianist, but he was a smart one, with a
marvelous touch. These simple trio pieces isolate him, but also
draw him out a bit. It's tempting to give this extra credit for
that, but when all is said and done, 'tis true that his real
instrument was the orchestra. This is roughly as good as his
1952-53 trios for Capitol; haven't heard the 1972 This One's
for Blanton (Pablo OJC).
B+

Dexter Gordon: Dexter Calling . . . (1961 [2004], Blue Note).
A quartet with his old bop chums including Kenny Drew, leaving him a lot
of space to blow, and with eight pieces he casts his net wide enough to
show his stuff.
B+

Dexter Gordon: One Flight Up (1964 [2004], Blue Note).
One of the later Blue Notes, recorded in Paris with Donald Byrd, Kenny
Drew, Niels-Henning Orsted Pedersen (their first of many sessions), and
Art Taylor -- the line-up a matter of convenience, although the bassist
(age 18) was quite a find. The original LP had three longish hard bop
jams; a fourth cut, Gordon's "Kong Neptune" didn't make it, but has
been tacked on here. Probably the most ordinary of his Blue Notes, not
that there's anything particularly wrong with it.
B

Charlie Haden: Land of the Sun (2004, Verve).
Beautiful record. Mexican themes, the land of enchantment.
A-

Dave Holland: Rarum Vol. 10: Selected Recordings
(1972-2000 [2004], ECM).
Holland has recorded 15 albums under his own name for ECM, plus
two as Gateway (with John Abercrombie and Jack DeJohnette), starting
with a 1971 bass duo (with Barre Phillips) and 1972's Conference of
the Birds -- an amazing piece of avant blowing by Anthony Braxton.
AMG lists 217 albums that Holland has appeared on (excluding VA comps,
but including some artist comps).
B+

The Hot Club of San Francisco: Be That Way (2004,
Panda Digital).
Not as hot as you'd figure: the name and lineup is meant to recall
Django Reinhardt, which makes this a string-driven thing (three
guitars, violin and bass) devoted to laconic gypsy jazz, as opposed
to the really hot dixieland revival bands that also frequently hail
from San Francisco. This is something like their seventh album,
going back to 1993. First one I've heard, so I don't know how it
compares. But I do have a shelf full of Reinhardt and/or Grappelli,
and compared to them this is slower, thinner, more wistful -- not
a bad idea, but not a convincing one either.
B

Freddie Hubbard: Blue Spirits (1965 [2004], Blue Note).
The best of his later Blue Notes, even though the album proper is split
between two somewhat different groups: "Soul Surge" is a groove piece
driven by Big Black's congas and Harold Mabern's gospel-tinged piano,
a strong mover by any measure; "Blue Spirits" is lighter and slicker,
with McCoy Tyner, Bob Cranshaw and Pete LaRoca in the rhythm section,
and one of James Spaulding's best flute solos ever. The contrast between
Mabern and Tyner is clearer than the one between Joe Henderson and Hank
Mobley -- if it had been planned one might have switched them. Two
bonus cuts bring in a Herbie Hancock/Reggie Workman/Elvin Jones rhythm
section, including the relatively abstract "True Colors," a slippery
excursion outside. That these all fit together just reminds you that
Hubbard could do it all.
A-

Freddie Hubbard: Breaking Point (1964 [2004], Blue Note).
The liner notes posit this as the launching point for Hubbard's career --
the first time he recorded with his own touring group. That must mean that
the half-dozen or so previous albums that he recorded for Blue Note, as
well as three for Impulse, were just studio groups; conversely, that
explains his no-name rhythm section. This is a mixed bag of pieces. The
title cut is a strange mix of stops and lurches, at times dazzling and
at other times puzzling. The next three are more conventional, "Blue
Frenzy" especially pleasing. Joe Chambers' "Mirrors" is slow, opaque,
rather hazy. James Spaulding complements, including a flute solo. But
most of the interest comes from Hubbard, who plays superbly.
B+

Freddie Hubbard: The Night of the Cookers (1965 [2004],
Blue Note, 2CD).
Recorded live at Club la Marchal in Brooklyn on Apr. 9-10, 1965, the
treat here is in hearing Hubbard square off with Lee Morgan, an
equally brilliant and even more fiery second trumpet. Each disc
has two long pieces, and they develop as long pieces do, with lots
of trade-offs. The rhythm section includes Harold Mabern on piano,
and is supplemented by Big Black on congas -- a nice touch. The
fireworks are present, but hardly as spectacular as hoped, which
leaves us with not much more than the usual jam session.
B

Frank Jackson: New York After Dark (2003 [2004], Kasis).
Evidently a fixture on the San Francisco jazz scene, where he has worked
since getting a start in Slim Gaillard's Voute City. But I can't find
any records under his name before he started recording for Kasis c. 2002,
nearing his 80th birthday. The late James Williams produced this one,
welcoming Jackson to New York with a group that includes Ron Carter and
Kenny Washington, with Billy Pierce adding soprano or tenor sax to a
couple of cuts. Some of this, especially "Summertime," is worth the
listen just for Carter. Jackson is an impeccable but pale singer,
with little accent, not much nuance, little to distinguish himself
beyond his undoubted skill.
B

Illinois Jacquet: Desert Winds (1964 [2004], Verve).
B+

Vic Juris: Blue Horizon (2002-03 [2004], Zoho).
Juris has a distinctive style on guitar -- not Montgomery, not McLaughlin,
not Abercrombie (although we're getting warmer). I've heard him compared
to Larry Coryell and Birelli Lagrene -- at least he's duetted with both --
but I don't know them well enough to say. This album pairs him with Joe
Locke (vibes, marimba), which adds some tinkle to the ring of his guitar.
The record is artful, perhaps masterful, but in a way that I don't quite
feel like sussing out.
B

Eric Kloss: First Class! (1966-67 [2004], Prestige).
Blind since birth, but as prodigously talented as anyone who ever
picked up an alto saxophone, Kloss was barely 16 when he started
recording for Prestige. He recorded prolifically up to 1981, then
vanished. He could play anything, any way, but as far as I can tell
he never developed a style or sound of his own. Some argue that he
could have become the greatest jazz saxophonist of all time, but
nobody argues that he did. This CD collects his 3rd and 4th LPs,
cut when he was 17-18. The music is all over the place, but
Prestige paired him with first rate modernists, keeping the mix
interesting and providing a solid platform for Kloss to lick his
chops. The first LP, Grits & Gravy, seems to have been
meant as a soul jazz shot, but most of it was cut with Jaki Byard's
trio, and it all seems a bit confused. At times it makes me wonder
what he might have done in the age of Kenny G -- compared to which
he's Roland Kirk. The latter LP, First Class Kloss, is more
scattered and much more fun. It ranges from the warped polyphony
of "Psychedelicatessen Rag" to the avant-blowout "African Cookbook"
without stopping any place long enough to get your bearings --
except to marvel at Cedar Walton.
B+

David Krakauer: Live in Krakow (2004, Label Bleu).
Krakauer in Krakow, "welcome to my town." He has a group called Klezmer
Madness, which on this evidence doesn't strike me as quite mad enough.
The addition to the group here is Socalled, a DJ who tosses in some
samples and beats, but ultimately doesn't make much of an impression.
Most of what's left is competent enough, with a slight edge to the
traditional pieces over the originals. The most promising track comes
after the close of the show (the track where they introduce the band,
ending in applause): a short one called "Sirba" where guitarist Sheryl
Bailey manages to make some noise.
B

The Ramsey Lewis Trio: Sound of Christmas (1961 [2004],
Verve).
There's nothing like Christmas music to bring out the "bah humbug!" in
me, but if you really want to rub it in, toss in a string orchestra.
The first half here, with just the trio, is tolerable, although I
doubt that Charlie Parker could roast some of these chestnuts. The
second half, with Riley Hampton's strings, is appalling hackwork.
D+

Ramsey Lewis Trio: Time Flies (2004, Narada Jazz).
Not really a trio: he picks up guests here and there, including a
whole gospel choir for two cuts and another vocalist for "Wade in the
Water." He plunders Bach and Brahms, and covers things like "Midnight
at the Oasis" and "The In Crowd" (how many times has he done that
one?). He picks up programmed beats, especially when he wants a bit
of that Spanish Tinge. He shifts bassist Larry Gray over to cello and
flute, brings Kevin Randolph in to play organ. In other words, this
has nothing to do with his jazz roots. Rather, this is pure kitsch.
It would be easy to trash, but everywhere you go his piano sparkles.
Maybe not like diamonds, but more than the mere glitter he'd probably
be satisfied with.
B

Dave Liebman Group: In a Mellow Tone (2001 [2004],
Zoho).
Liebman comments in his liner notes that this album has more tenor sax
than is usual for the group, but his soprano sax predominates. Guitarist
Vic Juris chimes in, sometimes taking the role of second horn, sometimes
piano, but his tone tends to reinforce the soprano - keeps this up in
the higher registers. Mostly soft pieces, not so fast, but not really
ballads either, despite the Ellington composition which serves as a
title. I like Liebman's tenor a lot more than his soprano, which also
tends to subdue Juris; Juris' tone adds a metallic tinge to Liebman's
soprano which tends to sound thin and whiny.
B

Guitar Moods by Mundell Lowe (1956 [2004], Riverside/OJC).
He's got an interesting guitar sound: not quite metallic like so many
guitarists, almost harp-like. These mood pieces are played so slow that
sound is most of what you get. The bass and drums add little in the way
of dynamics, and the occasional horns (one each on 7 of 12 tracks) just
supplement Lowe's sound -- the horns themselves being unorthodox enough
(English horn, flute, bass clarinet, oboe) that they bring virtually no
jazz baggage with them. Not ambient, just ambling.
B

Machito and His Afro-Cuban Orchestra: Vacation at the
Concord (1958 [2004], Verve).
A souvenir of one of those pleasant summer weekends in the Catskills,
back when Cuba was still a well-behaved (well, not really) colonial
outpost. The band is uncredited, and plays anonymously: the brass is
bright but securely tethered, the rhythm is full of cha-cha but never
shows off. Sorry to pick on such a nice little record, but I've heard
Machito when he had something to say, and know he can make himself
and his band heard. Just not here.
B-

Herbie Mann/Phil Woods: Beyond Brooklyn (2004, MCG Jazz).
Herbie Mann was a tough guy who played a wimpy instrument. He was by far
the most famous flute player in jazz -- probably because he had a few
successful commercial flings in the '60s, but also because there hasn't
been much competition (James Newton? Jeremy Steig? Robert Dick? 80%
of the players who show up in Downbeat's annual flute poll are
dabblers who spend most of their lives on other instruments). But he
grew up in thrall to bebop, like most of his generation -- like Phil
Woods, in fact -- and up to this his last recording bebop vitiated his
work. Still, it's just flute, the instrument of the pied piper. One is
tempted to cut him some slack in memoriam, but the flute still feels
disembodied here. The real meat comes from Woods, who has rarely
sounded so relaxed and settled.
B

Billy Martin: Drop the Needle / Illy B Eats (2002,
Amulet, 2CD).
Two discs. The first is remixed from Martin's beats, with anonymous
raps and other distractions. The second is just the beats. I actually
prefer the second. The raps and remixes don't strike me as especially
noteworthy, although they function in a rather utilitarian way, as
do the beats. Martin knocked off a bunch of records like this, fine
as a side-project when away from Messrs. Medeski et Wood. Nothing
wrong with that. Nothing earthshaking either.
B

Lee Morgan: The Sixth Sense (1967-68 [2004], Blue Note).
The album proper -- with Jackie McLean, Frank Mitchell, and Cedar Walton --
is plain old hard bop, bright and shiny, exuberant even, but little more
than typical for someone as sparkly as Morgan. The three bonus tracks are
more narrowly bebop, two fast ones and a ballad -- McLean is absent, and
Harold Mabern replaces Walton.
B+

Paul Motian: Rarum Vol. 16: Selected Recordings
(1972-87 [2004], ECM).
Best known as the drummer of choice for pianists from Bill Evans to
Marilyn Crispell (including Keith Jarrett and Paul Bley here), Motian's
own groups eschew piano in favor of saxophonists from Charles Brackeen
to Joe Lovano (both heavily featured here), playing his own loose-limbed
compositions. This is an appetizing platter, but Motian's later groups
(including much more with Lovano and Bill Frisell) developed further,
recording extensively with JMT and Winter & Winter.
B+

Eddy Orini: Divine Mustache: Musical Tribute to the Genius
of Salvador Dali (2003 [2004], TCB).
AMG characterizes Orini, born in Switzerland in 1943, as a versatile
musician more closely associated with prog rock than jazz. Indeed,
his credits here (percussion, vocals) don't make for much of a jazz
career. His label doesn't disagree: TCB has a color scheme for the
spines of their releases, and this one came out black -- their code
for "world music," but perhaps more tellingly the last classification
on their list. Evidently Orini cut an earlier version of this album
in 1976, and had it blessed by Dali himself. There are even pictures
of the young Orini with an old Dali, the former doing his best to
look like the latter. I find this weird, for while it's easy to take
Dali to be a subversive the fact is that he sided with the fascists,
and once one knows that it affects how one looks at everything else
he did. But while the book and lyrics are pointed at Dali, the music
is off in its own world. Or several of them. It's been orchestrated
hugely, turned into something of an opera under an aesthetic that
is, indeed, more prog rock than jazz. Some small pieces are lovely,
and the keyboard work (by Joel Vandroogenbroek, a Daliesque name
if ever there one) is fine. And the operatics are never excessive;
indeed, if anything they shortchange expressiveness. Seems harmless
enough; pointless too.
B-

Ken Peplowski: Easy to Remember (2003 [2004],
Nagel Heyer).
A lot brighter and bouncier than the stuff he was doing on Concord:
while Peplowski was always a young fogie, he never actually swung
all that hard, and his preference for the clarinet over the tenor
sax (which he is actually quite good at) seemed like an expression
of shyness. (He also had a classical jones, which he's indulged on
several occasions.) So credit new producer Frank Nagel-Heyer with
the hot band, the two singer shots (the winner is Bobby Short's
Tom Waits impression on "It's Easy to Remember"), and the general
uplift. Still, this seems kind of rote, perhaps because it's not
really Peplowski's kind of thing.
B

P.J. Perry Quintet (1993 [2004], Unity Jazz/Page Music).
Not sure whether this is a reissue or just something from the vault.
Perry is a Canadian saxophonist (alto, soprano; mostly alto here) who
plays in an aggressive postbop vein. He's joined here by relative
unknowns, some of whom (e.g., trumpeter Bob Tildesley) have played
with him at least since 1977. While much of this album is sprightly
and energetic, two things annoy me: the unision horn work and some
melodramatic piling on. When they keep it simple, as in the closer
with its organ-like synth, "Don't Forget," they can put on a good
show.
B

Dave Pike and His Orchestra: Manhattan Latin (1964 [2004],
Verve).
Some first-rate latin rhythm here (Cachao, Patato), which provides a
natural backdrop for Pike's vibraphone. The few horns are deployed
one at a time: some trumpet, Hubert Laws on tenor sax and piccolo.
It might be a nice diversion, but it sags in the middle -- why slow
things down when all you really got going for you is rhythm?
B-

Maria Schneider: Concert in the Garden (2004,
Artists Share).
Francis Davis swears this is the jazz album of the year, by a huge
margin. Nate Chinen put it #3 on his year-end list. It is popping
up elsewhere, and it seems likely that the consensus will side with
Davis. Nonetheless, I don't hear whatever it is they hear, or more
likely I'm just not impressed by it. I'm tempted to write this off
as evidence that my primordial loathing of euroclassical music still
at work. The first point worth making is that this isn't a big
band, at least not in the sense that Ellington and Lunceford and
Herman and even Kenton were big bands; this is an orchestra, even
if there are no strings and lots of brass. Big bands were built
for volume (at least in the pre-amplified era) and as such they
were built to reinforce the music, to muscle it up. This is a lot
more intricate, with the surplus of instruments employed like so
much filagree. This is too complex for me, with no center that I
can recognize -- just a lot of effects. Of course, that may be
the point, and I'm just being dense expecting something that is
not there when the point is more likely to enjoy what is there.
Schneider was a protege of Gil Evans, and it's likely that she
picks up where Evans left off. Evans differed from the big band
leaders in that he was a studio arranger who specialized in tiny
little effects. His work with Miles Davis was full of that sort
of thing, but it at least was always centered on the boss man.
Even without Miles, Evans was a guy who had simple tastes and a
particular fondness for the bold and brassy. But I don't hear
that sort of thing here: I can count up the brass instruments
in the credits, but I don't feel them in the music. Similarly,
I can recognize the numerous Latin influences, but I don't feel
them. I suspect that in the long run the real problem I have with
this record is one of utility: I don't listen to music so closely
that I give this sort of thing a fair chance to dazzle me. I want
records that grab my attention even when I'm not paying any, and
this is way too polite for that. When I asked for a copy of this,
I got back a nice note from Schneider where at the end she fretted
that I might make this a Dud of the Month. I'm not annoyed enough
to do that, nor am I secure enough in my judgment here. But I've
played this more than ten times, and it doesn't do anything for
me, nor offer any prospect of a breakthrough.
B

Louis Sclavis: Napoli's Walls (2002 [2004], ECM).
This is a strange and fascinating album. Sclavis plays soprano and
baritone sax as well as his clarinets, and he's joined by cello,
pocket trumpet, guitar, various electronics, and occasional vocals.
The latter sound operatic to me, but may be rooted in European (in
this case probably Italian) folk and pop, like opera presumably was.
The rockish beat of the closing cut ends on an up, but more here seems
linked to the Euroclassical tradition, or again its antecedents -- I
can't really say.
B+

Tab Smith: Crazy Walk (1955-57 [2004], Delmark).
This is the fourth of four CDs Delmark has released collecting nearly
100 sides that Smith recorded for United from 1951 to 1957. Like its
predecessors, it is nothing special, other than that it represents
the polar opposite of Charlie Parker. Where Parker pushed his horn
to its limits, Smith luxuriates in its simplicity, but that's
something too.
B+

McCoy Tyner: Tender Moments (1967 [2004], Blue Note).
A nonet with a lot of brass and James Spaulding flute, thickly arranged
but rather impersonal, without much space for the pianist; this was the
first of Tyner's many efforts at extended orchestration, and has a few
exquisite moments. But I don't see that he's pulled it together yet.
B

Eberhard Weber: Rarum XVIII: Selected Recordings
(1974-2000 [2004], ECM).
The German bassist mostly works with open, airy expanses of sound.
It's tempting, especially given his early album titles, to think of
him as a painter (a watercolorist), dabbing pastels on pastoral
canvases, with only an occasional streak of brightness imparted
by a colleague -- a Jan Garbarek, Paul McCandless, Charlie Mariano,
Gary Burton, Pat Metheny, Bill Frisell. Yet most of the guests
here are as dull as Weber (even Mariano, whose own records are
often incandescent). Still, this generalization underrates him.
Teamed with someone like Jon Christensen he can kick up a rhythm,
and on his solo album Pendulum he shows a wide range of
skills.
B

Forever, for Always, for Luther: A Tribute to Luther Vandross
(2004, GRP).
The affinity between "smooth jazz" and recent r&b, which could just
as well be called "smooth r&b" if anyone bothered to hire a PR flack
to christen it, shouldn't be surprising. You can follow the thread of
r&b back at least fifty years and find jazz analogues every step
along the way. If today's matches seem to suffer by comparison, it's
probably because the vocalists -- usually an afterthought on the jazz
side of the fence -- don't make the grade, and because what separates
the best contemporary r&b from the rest is singers who do make the
grade. This "tribute to" (or regurgitation of) Luther Vandross offers
us Lalah Hathaway on Luther's "Forever, For Always, For Love," and I
rest my case there. Mostly, though, we have here the usual guitarists,
keyboardists, and saxophonists (ignoring Rick Braun, not a bad idea),
playing nice and grooveful. I like Kirk Whalum's fullsome tone and
Mindi Abair's cheekiness, but the rest is pleasantly lightweight. It
no doubt helps that the songs fit together, and that none of the
musicians wear out their welcome.
B

Soul Satisfaction: A Collection of Nu-Soul Gems
(1999-2004 [2004], Shanachie).
With just two homegrown cuts, this is meant to be genre defining.
But the association of "nu-soul" with "neo-soul" loses steam when
you consider that AMG's Neo-Soul main artist list only lists one
artist here: Rahsaan Patterson. So maybe "nu-soul" is meant more
like the alt-underground division of "neo-soul"? Maybe, but the
real difference seems to be that these artists are a shade less
well known because they're a shade (or two) less talented. Soft
soul, sluggish beats, dull rhymes, occasional hysteria. What
less could you ask for?
C

Took a look at the Village Voice's "6th Annual Film Critics' Poll
2004." As usual, I've only seen four of the top ten (Before Sunset,
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Sideways, I
[heart] Huckabees), and they thin out after that:
15. Kill Bill Vol. 2,
17. Hero,
25. Fahrenheit 9/11,
36. Maria Full of Grace,
46. The Motorcycle Diaries,
60. Closer,
63. The Manchurian Candidate,
84. Ray.
Some others are here now and likely to get seen (The Aviator,
Kinsey), others here and less likely (Ocean's Twelve);
I've seen the trailer for #9 Vera Drake, but no telling when
the movie will follow. Haven't even seen the trailer for #12 Bad
Education or #11 Billion Dollar Baby. Main reason I
mention all this isn't to show how poorly I follow the movies;
I'm just pleased that Before Sunset won.

Music: Initial count 10027 [9997] rated (+30), 982 [992] unrated (-10).
Despite an intent to sort out year-end lists this week, I've mostly been
nibbling around the edges. The unrated 2004 new release list is still
over 90 albums long. I'm pretty sure there are no top ten candidates
there, but there are probably another dozen A- records -- enough to
put the year-end A-list over 100.

The Essential Allman Brothers Band: The Epic Years
(1990-2000 [2004], Epic/Legacy). They regrouped in 1990 -- at least
the ones who were still among the living -- cutting the fairly well
received Seven Turns more than a decade after Enlightened
Rogues stiffed. Why not? After all, Lynyrd Skynyrd was at least
as scarred, and they too returned to cash in on the '90s. They're
not above quoting themselves, and often it helps -- they're a shell
of what they used to be, but it never hurts to get down like on "No
One to Run With." "Soulshine" is the only ballad, and a high point.
Padded with live versions of their classics. B+

Burrito Deluxe: The Whole Enchilada (2004, Luna
Chica). The Burritos link is Sneaky Pete Kleinow, but the big name
here is Garth Hudson. "Everywhere I Go" sounds like Hudson, with
the familiar organ as well as voice. But most of this is pointless,
starting with the leadoff covers from John Prine (good choice) and
Alex Chilton (bad choice). The other song I like is "Rex Bob
Lowenstein," about a disk jockey: "his request line is open but
he makes no bones/about why he plays Madonna/after George Jones."
Nothing here reminds me of Gram Parsons, so we can't accuse them
of that kind of opportunism. B-

Don Cherry: Complete Communion (1965 [2000],
Blue Note). Two long pieces, each a suite with four movements:
the title cut at 20:38, "Elephantasy" at 19:36. If that sounds
like he's spoiling for a big band, rest assured: all you get
here is a four-piece, with Ed Blackwell and Henry Grimes down
below, and Gato Barbieri and Cherry up front. The combination
really crackles, especially on the title piece. A-

Don Cherry: Blue Lake (1971 [2003], Fuel 2000).
With South African bassist Johnny Dyani and Turkish percussionist
Okay Temiz, with Cherry chanting and playing piano as well as his
usual pocket trumpet, a taste of the world music of a future that
never came and probably never will be.
B+

The Essential Rosemary Clooney (1947-56 [2004],
Columbia/Legacy). Mixed bag from her early period, including big
pop hits like "Come On-A My House," "Mambo Italiano," and "This
Ole House," plus standards of the era like "The Lady Is a Tramp."
B+

The Essential Rodney Crowell (1981-2004 [2004],
Columbia/Legacy). "I Ain't Llving Long Like This," the title song
to his 1978 Warner Brothers debut, was re-recorded to kick off this
not-quite-career-spanning compilation. Then come two 1981 songs
from his third album for Warners, licensed here. Then come a bunch
from his Columbia period (1986-92), one MCA (1994-95, two albums),
one Sugar Hill (2001), two DMZ/Epic (2003, in the Sony family),
and one new one. Still, the licensing budget here may not be the
problem: the weak spots sag in the middle, on home turf. Useful,
but not as good as I'd expect, let alone hope for. B+

Dead Prez: Get Free or Die Tryin': The Mixtape Vol. 2
(2003, Boss Up/Landspeed). More troubles, not to mention attitude, in
the 'hood. One of those things that probably deserves more attention
than I can afford it right now: flows better and hits harder than what
little I recall of their first album. B+

El-P: Fantastic Damage (2002, Definitive Jux).
More of a producer than a rapper. This is dense, dark, full of
heavy riffs that stick on the obscure side. B+

Gotan Project: Inspiración-Expiración Remix (2004,
Beggars/XL, 2CD). This group did an album in 2003 called La Revancha
del Tango, which I haven't heard beyond snatches, but it sounded
interesting. Not sure if this is a remix from there, or elsewhere.
The two discs are labelled "Mixed CD" and "Bonus CD" -- not sure
whether the latter, with a 9:46 video, should count. The Remix CD
ends on a sour note, but there's much more going on here -- don't
have a good fix on it, but the tango base isn't sacrosanct, just
a base for all sorts of progressivism. B+

Lateef and the Chief Present Maroons: Ambush
(2004, Quannum Projects). Short at a bit over 38 minutes, tossed
off like a side project -- the artist appelation suggests as
much, or at least makes one wonder. The Truth Speaker takes on
Bush, especially on "If," an alternate history with much to
recommend it. B+

Van Morrison: What's Wrong With This Picture?
(2003, Blue Note). Well, for one thing the songs aren't very good.
The lament about the vicissitudes of fame is especially pathetic,
but his blues are standard issue and he rarely pulls a chestnut
out of the jazz tradition -- "Whinin Boy Moan" is the best, "Saint
James Infirmary" an easy pick. B

Mos Def: The New Danger (2004, Geffen). For a rapper
who's best known for his word-slinging, the most striking thing is how
much of this record rides on its hard rockin' bottom line. The simplest
piece here is "The Rape Over" -- a gripe about who's "running this rap
shit." But it's followed up by a bluesrock piece sweetened with Shuggie
Otis guitar, which refers back to the self-descriptive "The Boogie Man
Song." Runs on too long for me to really keep up with it, but the
latter cuts rock more than rhyme too. A-

The Neville Brothers: Walkin' in the Shadow of Life
(2004, Back Porch). Despite all the talent, the only great album
they've put together was Yellow Moon, way back in 1989.
This is conceptually similar. While the funk feels forced, they
reach back for covers that signify, and try to fit them into a
matrix that is both purposeful and motorvating. This doesn't do
the job nearly as well -- "Rivers of Babylon" is nowhere near as
inspired as "A Change Is Gonna Come." B+

The Josh Roseman Unit: Cherry (2001 [2002],
Knitting Factory). Young trombonist leads a big band of local big
names, plus a couple of obvious ringers (Lester Bowie, Bob Stewart)
through an unusual mix of covers (the first three are "Don't Be
Cruel," "If I Fell," and "Kashmir" -- Elvis, the Beatles, and Led
Zeppelin; three more are by Sun Ra; others are Bacharach/David,
Marvin Gaye, and "Smells Like Teen Spirit") plus three originals.
"Don't Be Cruel" is hilarious, but the others feel strange --
none stranger than "Kashmir." The Sun Ra stuff is fun, and the
originals are promising, but somehow the excesses here seem too
muted. The Bad Plus beat Roseman to Nirvana, emphatically. Ken
Vandermark's Sun Ra/Funkadelic shtick came later, but went much
further. Rather, this sounds like Lester Bowie's work, just a
bit duller. B

A Western Jubilee: Songs and Stories of the American West
(1995-2004 [2004], Dualtone). New wave cowboy music, proof that nothing
ever dies in American culture -- it just gets sillier; it helps that this
never sticks on one sour note too long (e.g., Waddie Mitchell's idiot
poetry, the Fort Worth Symphony Orchestra plays "Shenandoah", the Sons
of the San Joaquin sounding like a choir of Marty Robbins clones, Glenn
Ohrlin's belly music). Looks like much of this was previously released
on Shanachie, and has now been picked up by Dualtone. All the proof you
need that Don Edwards is the most important singer in his genre since
Gene Autry.
B

The Wizards From Kansas (1970 [2004], Radioactive).
Originally from Kansas, but recorded in San Francisco for their one-shot
record on Mercury. Reportedly the band broke up when some members left
to play jazz, then the label deep sixed the unpromoted album. I hear
elements of psychedelia and prog, mediocre vocals, some bright and
challenging guitar work. Seems like something I probably saw 30 years
ago in the 99-cent cutout racks and never gave a second thought to.
It says something about the way the universe has evolved that there
are people who consider this to be a classic. But my first instinct
was more economical. B

Movie: Closer. Romantic comedy, sans romance, not
to mention comedy. I found this confusing to follow because there
was little if any signal when time would jump forward, possibly by
years, nor were the flashbacks much clearer. Plot is something like:
Dan meets Alice in a car-pedestrian wreck; they shack up, he writes
a novel about her; Anna photographs Dan, a publicity job, and they
flirt, while Alice eavesdrops; Dan pretends to be Anna during an
internet chat with Larry, the hottest sex in the movie; Larry meets
Anna in the aquarium, they flirt, eventually get married; meanwhile
Anna and Dan have an affair, both before and after her marriage,
leading to break-ups between Dan and Alice, Anna and Larry; Larry
finds Alice in a strip club, propositions her; Anna tries to get
Larry to sign divorce papers, but his price is sex, which they
have; Dan finds out about this and leaves Anna, who gets back
together with Larry; Larry gives Dan Alice's address, so they
get back together again, but that breaks again when Dan grills
Alice about her having sex with Larry; Alice (not her real name)
goes back to America (Anna is also American; Dan and Larry and
the setting are English). Something like that, anyway. All we
actually see are the initial meetings/flirtings and the splits,
so scratch romance -- especially given that all the openings
are more/less adulterous. The characters probably match some
matrix of defective personality types -- Larry is manipulative,
so he gets the best of the others' neuroses, if you have low
standards for best. There is an air of contrived normalness to
the film, as if this be normal. B

Movie: Sideways. Several sources peg this as the best
movie of the year. I suppose it depends on how much of the featured
wine you've imbibed. Not that it isn't a pretty good buddy movie --
the odd couple complement each other nicely, with Thomas Haden Church
doing a particularly apt job of balancing his selfishness with genuine
feeling for Paul Giamatti's character. The detail on the wine is both
ridiculously excessive and believable, in one key case deliverng small
talk in the form of technical lectures. The scenery helps.
B+

Music: Initial count 9997 [9979] rated (+18), 992 [982] unrated (+10).
Spent most of last week thinking about top-ten jazz albums for 2004,
which meant spending time listening to previously rated records --
which by and large held up very well. Found a few new things along
the way. Village Voice Pazz & Jop poll is due Jan. 3, so I expect
much the same thing this week, with a somewhat broadened scope. Also I
expect more volatility: since I don't write much about new rock-rap-pop,
I haven't actually spent much time with most of my A-listed records --
e.g., I'm sure that Sonic Youth and the Beastie Boys put out very good
records this year, but I doubt that I've played either more than twice.
On the other hand, there's not a lot of non-jazz in the Pending file
that looks promising. Will know more in a week or two.

Celebrating Bix! The Bix Centennial All Stars Celebrate His
100th Birthday (2003, Arbors). Bought this mistakenly: I had
remembered that Randy Sandke had done a well-regarded Bix tribute
album (The Re-Discovered Louis and Bix, as opposed to the
later Randy Sandke Meets Bix Beiderbecke) and Sandke plays
cornet here. It's natural that Sandke would zero in on Beiderbecke,
and I suspect that the historical specificity might be just what he
needed to overcome the laxness in his retro-swing repertoire. This
one also features Dick Hyman, most recently heard with Tom Pletcher
on one called If Bix Played Gershwin. And there are others
here, like Scott Robinson, who went on to cut Jazz Ambassador:
Scott Robinson Plays the Compositions of Louis Armstrong. But
playing this leaves me wondering whether I wouldn't be better off
investing in JSP's Bix and Tram compilation -- not that
there's nothing like the real thing, but at least it might help
to know what the real thing was like. As it is, I've only heard
Beiderbecke's two Columbia comps, with the brilliant "Singin' the
Blues" and a lot of pretty jumpy dixieland. My suspicion is that
Bix is a bit overrated, partly for the same reason as Bird (died
tragically young), partly for the reason Bubber Miley and Jabbo
Smith aren't (race), partly because he came and went before Bunny
Berigan (also white). The problem with this one is that expert as
it may well be it isn't as exciting as you'd hope for. Part of
this may be that when you get so many prime musicians together
you expect them to swing, but swing came later. That doesn't
completely stop them, but it does seem to inhibit them, and in
that indecision something's missing. B

Max Eastley/David Toop: Doll Creature (2000 [2003],
Bip-Hop). Experimental ambient noise, only some of which holds much
interest. Hard to get excited one way or another. B-

Echo and the Bunnymen: Heaven Up Here (1981, Sire).
A band with a pretty solid reputation that I was warned off of and
never (until now) got around to. I should probably go cautious and
treat them as SFFR. Among the warnings are a "C" grade from Christgau,
and comparisons to the Doors both by Christgau and AMG. What I hear
sounds more like Red Lorry Yellow Lorry and maybe Shriekback, bands
that I liked while admitting that they probably weren't as sharp or
smart as the Fall or the Three Johns. All of these bands (including
the more pop-worthy Doors; one could also throw in Ministry, the
Revolting Cocks, and, what the hell, the Butthole Surfers) get a
dark, dense, roiling sound, of which this is probably the more
normatively English version, a bit fey and arty with philosophical
baggage that has haunted English prog-rock from Pink Floyd to
Radiohead. SFFR, but so far, so good. B+

50,000 Fall Fans Can't Be Wrong: The Very Best of the Fall
1978-2003 (Beggars Banquet, 2CD). Maybe not as right as
50,000,000 Elvis fans, but clearly they have a lot more on the ball
than those 100,000,000 Bon Jovi fans. A-

Funki Porcini: The Ultimately Empty Million Pounds
(1999, Ninja Tune). Discounting the spoken bits, which are meant to
be funny (and in some cases are), this is fairly rote drum 'n' bass,
breakbeats with accents, plus occasional stretches of noodling. B

Stan Getz: Mickey One (1965 [1998], Verve). A
soundtrack to a movie starring what must have been a pretty young
Warren Beatty. The music was composed by Eddie Sauter, whose had
collaborated with Getz previously on Focus -- the only
sax-with-strings album that was ever worth listening to just for
the strings (not that Getz wasn't brilliant in his own right).
This one is a lot less consistent -- perhaps an inevitable problem
with soundtracks given their need for variety, although the bigger
problem here is that the strings are often schmaltzy (a staple
with soundtracks, as is hysterical melodrama, which pops up as
well). Getz, of course, is magnificent. But while I find Sauter's
music amusing even at its worst, I don't expect to make a habit
of listening to it. B

A Proper Introduction to Rosco Gordon: No More Doggin'
(1951-53 [2004], Proper). Early work -- real early work -- from the
Memphis r&b shouter who recorded for Sam Phillips in pre-Elvis
days. B+

Jean Grae: This Week (2004, Orchestral/Babygrande).
As much as I like the understatated underground beats here, I find it
curious that none of the raps move me, or even elicit much attention
(probably the more basic problem). B+

Hot Women: Women Singers From the Torrid Regions
(1927-50 [2003], Kein & Aber).
Cajun, Cuban, Mexican, Brazilian, French Caribbean, Chilean, Spanish,
Sicilian, Greek, Algerian, Tunisian, Turkish, African, Malagasy,
Hindustani, Burmese, Vietnamese, Hawaiian, Tahitian -- all culled
from old (and old-sounding) 78s, mostly from the '30s; all feature
women singers, the "hot" determined mostly by R. Crumb's libido
(your mileage may vary). The order sweeps the globe from new world
to old and across the Pacific, not quite sorted by latitude, but
close. Effectively, it moves from the relatively familiar to the
relatively exotic. I don't love it all, but the more I play it the
more cogent it sounds, slowly dragging you into odd meters and
shrill harmonies -- the stuff that makes southeast Asian music
so inaccessible. This at least is a framework to show you much of
the world -- the old, pre-globalized world -- without it wearing
out its welcome. A-

Michael Hurley: Down in Dublin (2004, Blue Navigator).
Like most live albums, a holding pattern, recycling old songs and
sometimes reinterpreting them; packaged with new comix, a plus.
B+

Toby Keith: Shock'n Y'All (2003, Dreamworks). First
song, "I Love This Bar," is a pretty good one. Third one, "American
Soldier," is patriotic pimpwork. Fourth one, "If I Was Jesus," offers
the line, "I'd walk on some water/just to mess with your head." Those
are the high points; the filler is pretty muddled. Keith is a pretty
strong singer, and he can work up a honky tonk sound, but he's not
much on thinking clear, and there's only so much you can say for
alcohol. The album concludes with two "bus songs" -- done live for
yucks. One is about bombing Afghanistan, supposedly told from the
vantage point of a camel-riding Afghan cave-dweller: "we prayed to
Allah with all of our might/until those big U.S. jets came flying
in one night/and they dropped little bombs all over their holy
land/man you should have seen them run like rabbits they ran/the
Taliban." The other is about getting bombed on Willie's weed, and
he can't handle that one either. C+

New Estate: Considering . . . (2003, W.Minc).
Last song is called "Out of Control" -- could be a theme song for
a band that doesn't seem to quite have its hands on the wheel.
B

Jean-Michael Pilc Trio: Welcome Home (2001 [2002],
Dreyfus). Piano trio, with Ari Hoenig and François Moutin. Pilc is
fast and sturdy, takes risks, does a fine job of holding this together.
Got this from the library -- first thing I've heard from him, by now a
couple of records back. Penguin Guide gave this (and two other albums)
four stars. Under the circumstances I don't have time to live with it
to figure out how good it really is. B+

Stan Ridgway: Black Diamond (1995 [2001], New
West). Scratchy singer-songwriter, the minimalism of his work has
a certain appeal, but also has its limits. B

Charlie Robison: Good Times (2004, Dualtone).
He's got a little bit of John Prine going for him -- a bit of the
voice, a little bit of familiar melody (especially on the title
song), some quirks. Of course, he ain't John Prine -- doesn't
have the wit or the bite, and he's more disposed to them good
times. B+

Brian Setzer Orchestra: The Dirty Boogie (1998,
Interscope). This is fun enough for the first two cuts, even though
they are best taken as jokes. This is a retro-swing big band, the
sort of band that likes "Jump Jive an' Wail" because it's hot, but
they're only tolerable as long as they keep it hot. In that regard,
"Sleepwalk" fails miserably -- some sort of Hawaiian steel guitar
thing. And nothing after that rises to the level of the first two
songs -- not even "Jump Jive an' Wail." C+

Brian Setzer Orchestra: Vavoom! (2000, Interscope).
This one corrects the faults of the previous by remaining consistently,
insidiously upbeat (well, discounting the lame doo-wop closer). He's
still too grossly derivative -- the Bobby Darin impression on "Mack
the Knife" adds nothing and is distinguishable only because it isn't
good enough. And he's not funny, which could have been some sort of
saving grace. C

Shalamar: Anthology (1977-87 [2004], The Right
Stuff/Solar). The last of the great '70s soul groups -- so
late that most of their hits came out in the '80s when few rock
fans even noticed, so they never broke out of their AM niche;
the single-CD Greatest Hits is more concentrated, but the
broader swath here holds up admirably. A-

Paul Simon: One Trick Pony (1980 [2004], Warner
Bros.). Soundtrack-connected album of little repute, from far back
enough that it should have been forgotten by now -- but Warners
decided to reissue everything, so here we go. Lead-off song is a
nice one, "Late in the Evening" -- like all of Simon's better
songs it steals a rhythm from somewhere. On the other hand, one
called "Nobody" is as close to nothing as a song can get, and
that's more like par for this course. C+

Split Lip Rayfield: Should Have Seen It Coming
(2004, Bloodshot). I don't normally write single-record reviews
at Static -- I'm buried with my columns and it rarely seems like
it'd be worth the hassle -- but I agreed to do one on this band.
Like me, they come from Kansas (Winfield, I think, but for most
intents and purposes that translates as Wichita). This won't be
that review; this is just an attempt to triage my y2004 list, and
find my bearings. But the main reason is that this record ain't
all that great. Four-piece band, all strings (bass, mandolin,
guitar, banjo), no drums, three guys write (although one only
has one song this time), at least that many sing. They have one
speed, which is pretty fast, and basically one riff. Songs are
nothing special, although I like the cheap one, "Just Like a
Gillian Welch Song," mostly because it ain't. "Union Man" could
use a little more bite. The answer to "A Little More Cocaine
Please" is "just say no." The answer to "Hundred Dollar Bill"
is "more like a twenty." I hear they're fun live, but I've never
heard them live, even though they play hereabouts all the time.
But then the publicist who begged me to review them up and quit
his job, so maybe we'll forget all about it.
B

Fields of Gold: The Best of Sting 1984-1994
([1994], A&M). Early stuff sounds like watered-down Police,
although that's much too kind to "They Dance Alone (Cueco Solo)."
B-

Wylie and the Wild West: Hooves of the Horses (2004,
Western Jubilee). Wylie Gustafson plays guitar, sings, yodels, and
rides rodeo. This is his seventh album of cowboy songs, so you'd have
to figure that songs as obvious as "Happy Rovin' Cowboy" may have
been around the pen before. This is the first one I've heard, so
I'm only guessing when I say that most likely the rest are about
as good as this one, that this one is as good as any of the others,
that you don't necessarily need any but you won't mind having one
(or maybe two). In other words, he's a limited artist in a narrow
niche, but there's nothing wrong with that. B

Rancho Texicano: The Very Best of ZZ Top (1970-92
[2004], Warner Bros., 2CD).
Actually, the real very best of ZZ Top -- possibly the only really
great thing they ever did -- was an album that they put out in 1979,
after a couple years hiatus hanging out in Paris and taking life
easy. Deguello may not have been the greatest blues album
ever made by white guys -- Layla is pretty hard to top --
but it is certainly the most comfortable. Its four cuts which end
the first disc here stand head and shoulders above everything but
"Tush," and the six they omitted would have done the same. The
best of the rest of their oeuvre may just be chopped liver (Texas
style, with roasted anchos and BBQ sauce), but what's wrong with
that? The first disc here is nothing but blues, dirty (as in dirt)
and gritty (as in grit). The second disc is more prog (as in
"Velcro Fly") and more camp (as in "Viva Las Vegas"), and they
throw in a couple of dance remixes and a live "Cheap Sunglasses"
for laughs. They're the world's least pretentious arena rock band,
a triumph of luck over design, and wise enough to enjoy that.
A-

Got the raw data collected for the 6th-to-7th-edition deltas for
Richard Cook & Brian Morton, The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD.
Raw changes: 5143. Records added: 2993. Records deleted: 2120. Records
with grade changes: 30. New crown records: 6. New four-star records: 214.
New fourth-star-in-parentheses records: 609. 1725 pages, up from 1601 not
counting index, which has been dropped this year. There is also a new
concept called the "core collection" where something like 200 entries
(haven't counted them) have been flagged, their reviews printed in bold
type. While most are four-star, a few are rated lower, while many higher
rated albums (including some crowns) are omitted. I may pull those
lists out at some time too.

The new crown records are:

Amalgam: Prayer for Peace (1969, FMR)

Rahsaan Roland Kirk: A Meeting of the Times (1966-72, Warner Bros.)

Lee Konitz: Motion (1961, Verve)

René Marie: Vertigo (2001, MaxJazz)

New Orleans Rhythm Kings: 1922-1925: The Complete Set (Retrieval)

Evan Parker: The Snake Decides (1986, Psi)

The only one of the six that I have is the Konitz, but I have some of
the N.O.R.K. recordings, probably a substantial overlap. René Marie is
the only relatively recent album, and is the biggest surprise -- from
what I've heard she strikes me as a competent B+ singer, but I haven't
heard this one. Amalgam is an early English avant group, with Trevor
Watts and Barry Guy.

The deletions list is highly label-specific, the most-deleted being:
Concord (355), Enja (99), Black Lion (92), DIW (77), Evidence (50),
Music & Arts (37), Steeplechase (37), Verve (37), Columbia (26),
Sunnyside (26), Soul Note (26), Timeless (21). Some deletions are
merely because artists dropped below some threshold of interest, but
the top deletions labels reflect business decisions. Concord is still
very much in business, but was sold to investors who moved the company
to Los Angeles. They've gone on to release hit records like the Ray
Charles duets, but one of the first things they did was to remainder
a lot of old catalogue. They have 39 additions here (tied for #9),
some of which are repackagings of old material, but their overall
count has still been reduced by more than 300 records. Concord has
recently announced that they've acquired Fantasy, which probably
(if you combine all of their labels) has more records reviewed
than any other label -- probably by a pretty big margin. So the
fear there is that they'll do something similar with Fantasy, but
a more sensible approach would be to keep Fantasy intact and let
them release key parts of Concord's back catalogue under their
Original Jazz Classics (OJC) series.

I will say that while I've always found The Penguin Guide
to be very useful in finding good records (especially European jazz
and classic jazz), their ratings of new that I am familiar work,
especially over the last 2-3 revisions, don't strike me as terribly
reliable. One obvious problem is that adding almost 3000 records in
about 2.5 years doesn't leave you a lot of time to make anything
more than snap judgments. Splitting the work between two people
that would work out to 11 reviews/ratings per week for each. I've
actually been working at a higher rate (1282 records from 14-Dec-2003
to 12-Dec-2004, an average of 24/week), so maybe the problem is on
my end, but even so it's tough to do. (It's also unlikely that they
get a perfect division of labor.)

Music: Initial count 9979 [9947] rated (+32), 982 [991] unrated (-9).
Closing out a new Recycled Goods: got almost two columns written, so
most of what remains is to split the columns up.

John Abercrombie: Animato (1989 [1990], ECM). Mild
mannered guitar record, with Vince Mendoza writing most of the pieces
and playing synthesizer, while Jon Christensen adds some percussion.
B+

Monty Alexander: Ivory and Steel (1980, Concord).
The steel drum complements piano much like a vibraphone does, and
gives it a further lift on the faster calypsos here. Piano is fast
and sure. Not sure that this is a great idea, but at least it's an
enjoyable oddity. B+

Grenadier: Hand Offensive (2004, Grenadier Music).
Self-released album from a DeKalb, IL alt-rock band, led by a Jeremy
Heroldt. Been sitting on my shelf for months now, and surprise, it's
pretty good. B+

Jewels and Binoculars: The Music of Bob Dylan (2000,
Ramboy). This is the first of two albums (Floater came out in
2004) where the trio of Michael Moore, Lindsey Horner, and Michael
Vatcher transfigure Bob Dylan's melodies. Excepting "With God on Our
Side" the melodies are rarely apparent, but then it's always been
Dylan's words and twangy slur that nailed his songs to our minds.
Here, with no guitar and no vocals, they collapse back into their
elementary selves -- if indeed that's what they are. Moore's reeds
are ingeniously subtle, and while he must be improvising like hell
to render these melodies so opaque he's not doing it in any obvious
way -- certainly not the way Charlie Parker or Coleman Hawkins might
have done it. A lovely record. Floater may even be better.
A-

Lee Konitz: Sound of Surprise (1999, RCA). Played this
while working on something else, knowing I wouldn't have to write about
it, at least for now. It's rare to hear Konitz in a group with so many
options, not that anything sounds cluttered here. Ted Brown is credited
as a second saxophone, which I've rarely noticed -- no jousting, little
(if any) unison work. The guitarist, however, is hard to miss, and not
hard to identify as John Abercrombie. Marc Johnson and Joey Baron are
really superb. Konitz gets to lay out more than usual, and he usually
comes in light as a feather. Nothing flashy, but superb, thoughtful
work. A-

Lou Levy: Lunarcy (1992, Verve/Gitanes). Piano trio
plus Pete Christlieb on tenor sax. I'm used to Levy with Stan Getz;
Christlieb has a heavier sound, a bit more aggressive -- I associate
him with Warne Marsh, but he's very lucid here. Levy is sparkling.
A very enjoyable session. A-

The Rolling Stones: More Hot Rocks (Big Hits & Fazed
Cookies) (1964-71 [2002], Abkco, 2CD). Figure the two discs
on Hot Rocks scraped off the most obvious stuff, although
how they missed "The Last Time" and "Out of Time" and "Lady Jane"
and "Have Your Seen Your Mother, Baby" is something that I'd have
to research to understand. Those are all on the first disc here,
which is roughly comparable to Through the Past Darkly. The
second disc strays further: it starts with a couple of Satanic
Majesties songs, picks off "Let It Bleed," then dives back into
their early cover songs, including two takes of "Poison Ivy." Not
much here you shouldn't already know. A-

Movie: The Motorcycle Diaries. In what is basically a
travelogue, it seems fair to say that the star here is the continent of
South America. It's a remarkable place, and the traversal of Argentina
and Chile is taken leisurely enough to get a sense of how elevation
and the prevailing winds affect the biota. After that they have to
pick up the pace a bit and expand on the human story, and they've
run out of time once they hit Colombia: we get one scene of them
arriving at the port where Colombia touches the Amazon, then a cut
to the airport at Caracas. None of this geography is explained; if
you don't know something of it I can't imagine what you'd make of
it, but it strikes me as fundamentally accurate. (My impression of
the Atacamba is that there's a lot more nothing there than the mines
they show, but by that point they were shifting focus to the human
dimension, so that's what little they had to show of the world's
driest desert. On the other hand, the striking visual entrance to
the uninhabited, tourist-uninfested Macchu Picchu seems unlikely
even in 1952 and utterly impossible now.) This would have been
interesting even if the diarist had not been Che Guevara, even if
this trip had not been the eye-opening, life-changing experience
that metamorphosed Guevara into a revolutionary. The transformation
is effected by peeling back one layer of oppression and rejection
after another, until they hit bottom at a leper colony on Peru's
Amazon, and find the human spirit to not just persevere but to
rise up. This part of the story strikes me as a little too pat,
but closing sequence of still portraits puts a determined human
face on the ordeal: the people thus framed each showing determined
pride and humanity. A-

Picked up the 7th edition of The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD.
Started to sort out the differences.
This will probably take several weeks.
Last time the deltas ran to
3703 lines, mostly uninteresting comings and goings. Last time the
demise of the 32 Jazz label caused a large part of the deletions.
This time most of the delitions I've noticed come from Black Lion
and Concord. The former is defunct, but Concord is very much alive,
just strangely changed as it has been transformed into some sort of
conglomerate. One thing they did was to discontinue vast swathes of
their remarkable catalog. I heard earlier this week that Concord has
bought out Fantasy, so one has to wonder about the future of their
extensive reissue program (comprising such legendary labels as
Prestige, Riverside, Contemporary, and many more). Few large jazz
labels do a good job of keeping their catalog in print: Blue Note
and Verve rarely keep new jazz releases in print more than five
years, even though they have extensive reissue programs; RCA has
little new to work with, but their reissues are frequently culled
and rarely re-reissued. Fantasy probably has more important jazz
from the '50s and '60s in print than any other label in the world,
so there is much to worry about there.

Music: Initial count 9947 [9915] rated (+32), 991 [1013] unrated (-22).
Most of the ratings come from cleaning up mid-level jazz releases. Need
to go back to Recycled Goods this week, so figure more reissues coming.

The Abyssinians and Friends: Tree of Satta (1969-2003
[2004], Blood & Fire).
Named for Emperor Haile Selassie's homeland, the Abyssinians were
Jamaica's first vocal trio to latch onto rastafarianism to produce
the roots-rock mythology came to dominate our view of reggae. And
"Satta Massa Gana," cut in 1969, was their great single, and given
Jamaica's culture of reuse the classic bass line and horn figure
have been recycled hundreds of times since then. When Bernard Collins,
lead singer of the Abyssinians, conceived this album he had collected
sixteen versions of the song, imagining it as a tree that shoots
branches off in every direction. The producers ordered up more
versions, and this is a best-of a set that will include at least
another volume. Twenty takes of "Satta Massa Gana" may sound like
too much of a good thing, but only rarely does the concept become
obvious -- most often just the first few notes of a new take. The
rhythm carries you along with the overwhelming force and quiet
subtlety of a gently-graded river, floating an extravaganza of
sanctified dub. A

The Essential Roy Acuff (1938-49 [2004],
Columbia/Legacy). A major country star of the era before honky
tonk, he is best known for "sacred" songs like "Great Speckled
Bird" and "Wreck on the Highway" -- not to my mind sacred so
much as preaching that old time religion. This is unnecessarily
shorter than 1992's Essential Roy Acuff. A-

Alan Broadbent: Live at Maybeck Recital Hall, Volume
Fourteen (1991, Concord). They may be the ideal way to
listen to Broadbent: solo. He works through a couple of originals
and a wide range of standards, but always seems in complete
control, playing with sure-footed elegance. B+

Lenny Bruce: Thank You Masked Man (1958-63 [2004],
Fantasy). Early bits, mostly unreleased, most with extreme voices,
including the semitic Lone Ranger and the antisemitic Fat Boy car
salesman; mostly of its time, too, but note that the bleeped out
four-letter word in "The Sound" (the story of a jazz musician, the
funniest thing here) is "Welk."
B+

Capital D: Insomnia (2004, All Natural). He's
graduated from concerned citizen to political provocateur, the
big picture spelled out in missives like "Culture of Terrorism,"
"Mississippi," "Blowback," "1984," "Toy Soldiers," and, of course,
"Start the Revolution." His insight is tied to Islam, and he explains
that too. Only one song ("Enough Already") is ready to conquer the
pop culture world -- one might quibble with an anti-gay line there,
but it's mild enough and I have my quibbles with the quibbles these
days. And while the music isn't as tightly hooked as Eminem, say,
it's good enough to run an instrumental without any complaint.
A-

The Essential David Allan Coe (1974-86 [2004],
Columbia/Legacy). His name-dropping got so desperate he once stooped
to claiming to "sound a lot like David Allan Coe." His ambitions were
so low he's probably as surprised as anyone to have become a star, and
his accomplishments, like "the perfect country and western song" so
low that he's in a class of one. I could complain about this being
inconsistent, but that's just one more joke. B+

The Best of Jimmy Dean (1961-65 [2004], Columbia/Legacy).
He talked his way through a novelty hit with "Big Bad John" and followed
it up with one called "P.T. 109," parlayed those into a tv show, and cashed
in selling sausage. This ignores the front and tail ends of his career,
just catching those hits, and fills it out with more talkies, including
his solution to the cold war ("Dear Ivan") and an even worse whisper to
his daughter ("To a Sleeping Beauty"). The revelation here is a funny
one called "I Won't Go Huntin' With You Jake (But I'll Go Chasin'
Wimmin')," which among other things reveals him as a pretty good
back-country singer. Dean got by more on personality than on talent.
B-

The Ex: Turn (2004, Touch and Go, 2CD). Holland's
answer to the Mekons, or maybe the Gang of Four, which lacking a
country jones they sound a bit more like. They've been around since
1980. I've heard little that they've done -- my favorite before this
one was Instant (1995), which was two discs of miniature jazz
pieces and miscellaneous noise. This one is Velvets-rooted rock 'n'
roll, recorded in Chicago by Steve Albini. A-

Peter Green: Man of the World: The Anthology
(1968-88 [2004], Sanctuary, 2CD). He stayed true to Fleetwood
Mac's original blues vision even after nobody else remembered
that they had ever had one, and he furthered that legacy more
nobly than Eric Clapton. Still, like Clapton he's only a pale
English reflection of the blues, a craftsman in thrall to the
American music but with a recessive gene toward the pastoral.
The Brits who actually made something out of the blues were
the ones who had the gumption to make them rawer, nastier, and
above all bigger than the originals: the Animals, the Rolling
Stones, Led Zeppelin. Graded leniently for historical value,
and because he's impossible to hate. B+

The Essential Merle Haggard: The Epic Years (1981-87
[2004], Epic/Legacy). The stuff he's most famous for was recorded from
1963-77 for Capitol, peaking in the late '60s. After that he recorded
for MCA, then Epic. But he never stopped writing great songs -- he
just didn't write as many or as often. This starts with "Big City"
and "Are the Good Times Really Over" which, despite and in some ways
because of their bitter nostalgia, are among his great ones. But one
part of nostalgia isn't so hopeless, as in "Let's Chase Each Other
Around the Room" and, especially, "I Always Get Lucky With You." One
of the few times narrowing the focus sharpens the picture. A-

Guillermo Klein: Los Guachos III (2002, Sunnyside,
2CD). A sprawling project, with a large group. The results are a bit
hit-and-miss, but the main vibe is a propulsive rhythm which plays
out on a fairly open field. This becomes distinctively latin on the
second disc, especially in "Hermanos Latinos." There are some more
atmospheric pieces, and a couple of pieces have vocals, mostly for
additional texture. B+

Miriam Makeba: Reflections (2004, Heads Up). First
song sounds like township heaven, although it's just a title repeated
over and over against a classic beat. But the next cut loses the
edge, and the third is a string-drenched chanson (in French, no
less). Even worse is "I'm in Love With Spring," where a male voice
opens up, then they duet amidst the usual string crap. A Jorge Ben
tune follows, but at least it has drums, and an infectious chorus,
a return to the form of the first cut. (Both here and there Makeba's
contribution is negligible.) C+

Oliver Mtukudzi: Shanda (2004, Alula). This is the
soundtrack to the career retrospective of the other guy from Zimbabwe
-- the booklet has a picture of a young Mtukudzi alongside Thomas
Mapfumo, tribute and cred; enough to show off the sweet and sour
guitars that motorvate chimurenga, to remind you he's still knocking
on our doors. There's also a DVD, which I haven't seen yet. Couple
of songs in English. He's trying hard, and he's worthwhile, but he's
still not Mapfumo.
B+

Hank Penny: Flamin' Mamie (1938-41 [2004], Krazy
Kat). "Yankee Doodle"? They jazz it up fine once the verse completes,
but still can't cut the corn. These are early studio recordings from
a singer-guitarist-bandleader who jumped into western swing as the
tide was going out. One clue to the limits of this band is that the
slap bass keeps foursquare time but doesn't swing, but the leader
is going places. Of marginal historical interest, although there
are some fine spots. Better things were to come. B+

Hollywood Western Swing: The Best of Hank Penny
(1944-47 [1999], Krazy Kat). The improvement here is in the band,
which really puts the swing into western swing; the horns, fiddle,
steel guitar, and accordion all stand out, and the leader has a
blast riding herd. A-

Putumayo Presents Greece: A Musical Odyssey
(1993-2003 [2004], Putumayo World Music). Released in time for
the Olympics, souvenir music if you didn't get creeped out by the
forecasted terrorists or the guaranteed counterterrorists; softer
than the real thing, which for once is nice. B+

Putumayo Presents Music From the Chocolate Lands
(1990-2004 [2004], Putumayo World Music). Another excuse -- they
previously did coffee and tea -- for the easy-going, albeit rather
generic, near-equator worldbeat that this label specializes in.
Note that the ringers from London and East L.A. are the ones you
notice, and that the contender from the Ivory Coast, currently the
reigning champion chocolate producer (or maybe that was last year?
this year hasn't been so good), is the one you wish you hadn't.
B

Putumayo Presents Women of Latin America (1999-2004
[2004], Putumayo World Music). Another even-handed, temperate, almost
boring collection. The homogenization is less annoying here than on
Women of Africa, perhaps because Latin America is much less
diverse. But it's nowhere near this undiverse: you can find more
range in Brazil or Mexico or Colombia or Cuba even (no Cuba here;
guess Celia Cruz doesn't rate). Not to mention excitement. The good
thing about Putumayo is that they have an ear for making mix tapes
that just flow and flow, but that's also the bad thing because they
never risk surprise.
B

Rio Baile Funk: Favela Booty Beats ([2004], Essay).
I don't know much about this. Got a copy from the label in Berlin.
Matos wrote about it in Seattle Weekly, identifying a lot of
the pieces but not really explaining where it comes from, or why.
Finally tried to decipher a doc file that I got, which explains:
"And forget what you know about Brasilian music so far. . . . No
world music and certainly not another Brasilian chlich pumped up
with electronic beats. This is music from the favelas of Rio de
Janeiro. Bouncing booty beats with portugese raps that make 50
Cent look like a wimp." Well, we won't go into 50 Cent here; Matos
makes the comparison to 2 Live Crew. A-

The Rough Guide to Fado ([2004], World Music Network).
Per usual, no discographical dates, plus the booklet is printed in the
usual mess of colors, including whole pages of white on yellow. The
range of artists include the fabled Amália Rodrigues (1920-99), a big
star in the '50s, and the photogenic Joana Amendoeira. The style has
deep roots -- Maria Severa, who appeared in the 1830s, is regarded as
an important transitional figure. In a nutshell, the style is built
around guitarra portuguesa (a guitar with a rounded box, like a lute)
and a singer. The music here is almost all taken at ballad pace,
pitched for maximum emotional impact. It takes a while to sink in,
but it can be lovely if you relax with it. B+

Studio One Classics (1964-81 [2004], Soul Jazz).
Give that the only song here that I recall hearing before is "Simmer
Down" I'm not sure that "classics" is the right word
A-

Rokia Traoré: Bowmboï (2004, Nonesuch). The cut that
kicks this over the top is "Nienafing," precisely because it picks up
the pace so you don't have to wonder about it. Up to that point, there
is a simple grace to the songs, a precise and delicate articulation.
The nuances win out here. But the fast ones help. A-

Happy Together: The Very Best of the Turtles
(1965-70 [2004], Shout! Factory). Great song I don't remember:
"Let Me Be." Another one (I remember a bit, I think): "Elenore."
They did a pretty good "It Ain't Me Babe" too, although "Eve of
Destruction" (even if expertly done) counts as filler. B+

The United Records Story (1951-57 [2004], Delmark).
Delmark has mined the archives of Leonard Allen's United/States records
for a dozen or more releases. One of the first black-owned labels,
United/States recorded the usual range of black Chicago music -- blues,
R&B, gospel, with perhaps a slight preference for honking sax.
It's hard to make a case that this was a great label -- in particular,
it doesn't stand up to Duke/Peacock among black-owned contemporaries,
nor to Chess among Chicago contemporaries -- but there's a good deal
of valuable music there. This is a fair sampler: most impressive are
bluesmen like Junior Wells, Robert Nighthawk, and Roosevelt Sykes.
B+

The Best of Bobby Vinton (1962-72 [2004], Epic/Legacy).
The first LP that I ever bought was Bobby Vinton's Greatest Hits --
a source of embarrassment until I saw David Lynch's movie and had to
admit that "Blue Velvet" was still a pretty great song. A-

The Best of Frankie Yankovic (1947-65 [2004],
Columbia/Legacy). A brief but choice selection the "polka king" --
a sobriquet he obtained the old-fashioned way, by earning it. B+

Yes Indeed! Women Vocalists on United (1949-53 [2004],
Delmark). A grabbag of early r&b, with mostly unknown singers -- Della
Reese gets first billing because you might have heard of her; more likely
than Betty Mays, Dixie Crawford, Terry Timmons, Helen Fox, Debbie Andrews,
Helen Thompson, and Jewel Belle -- fronting slumming swing bands. (Jimmy
Hamilton is the best known, but J.J. Johnson and Kai Winding are called
out on the back cover.) Will be interesting for people who want to recover
this history (I know, because I am one), but nothing here sounds like a
long lost hidden classic. Note that only one cut here made The United
Records Story. B

I believe that the right and the left are fundamentally divided over
their understanding of how the world works and what behaviors are and
are not moral given that understanding. The right believes that human
nature is fundamentally vile and unchangeable and therefore must be
controlled by force and repression. The left believes that human nature
is fundamentally open and changeable, indeed self-improving. The right
believes that humankind will always be divided between rich and poor,
that poverty is a sign of low moral character, and that the rich are
justified in defending their property. The left believes that war and
hatred are plots by the right to prevent equality, which almost all
human beings aspire to, from developing. Much of the political strife
we see around us can be extrapolated from this simple split. One thing
I find especially interesting about the split is this fundamental
ideological split is self-selecting: the idea that human nature is
fundamentally vile and unchangeable is particularly appealing to
those people who most exhibit those tendencies.

Juan Cole has written an interesting comment on the differences
between what he calls liberals and conservatives -- pretty much what
I call left and right -- in how they view the U.S. assault on
Fallujah:

The big divide between liberals and conservatives in regard to
Fallujah is that most liberals do not believe that force can be used
to solve problems. They may believe that force is sometimes
necessary. But they think it most often just causes new problems. They
tend to see the world as complex, not in black and white terms, so
that an unalloyed "bad guy" is rare (Bin Laden managed to make himself
an exception). Liberals also see military force in the context of the
whole society, so that they worry about what happens to children and
grandmothers when it is deployed. It is liberals who remember that the
Vietnam war killed 2 million Vietnamese peasants. And, they find US
military deaths unacceptable.

So from a liberal point of view, Fallujah was terrible. It involved
displacing hundreds of thousands of people, subjecting civilians to
bombardment and crossfire, and resulted in over 2000 deaths, including
over 50 US troops. The icon of Fallujah for the liberals was the
little boy with the shard of grenade shrapnel lodged near his liver,
or the old woman bewailing her dead relatives.

Conservatives do believe that force can be used to solve
problems. They think in terms of good guys and bad guys, and it seems
obvious to them that if you kill the bad guys, then you have solved
the problem. Getting at the bad guys may be disruptive to civilian
populations, and may cause some collateral damage, and may incur some
troop casualties, and all that is bad, but it is necessary and worth
it. You can't make omelettes without breaking eggs.

Many bloggers are complaining from a liberal point of view about
the downsides of the use of force. They are completely uninterested in
the activities of the Baathist and radical Sunni guerrillas holed up
in Fallujah. They are uninterested in whether these guerrillas
terrorized the local population. All they can see is the vast
destruction caused by the US assault, and the innocent lives
damaged. From their point of view, the whole operation against the
city is a form of collective punishment.

The US military powerpoint slides are classical conservatism. They
identify the bad guys, who are the problem. They lay out their
crimes. And they document the way the good guys went in to kill or
capture them and so solve the problem.

The US military seems strangely unaware of the realities of
insurgencies. It seems to think there are a limited number of "bad
guys," who can all be killed or captured. The possibility that
virtually all able-bodied men in Fallujah supported the insurgency,
and that many are weekend warriors, does not seem to occur to them. In
fact, as Mao noted, guerrillas swim in a sea of supportive
civilians. The US military slides suggest that now that the bad guys
have been taken care of, the civilians can be won over. That this
outcome is highly unlikely does not seem to occur to them.

The thing that strikes me about the military powerpoint slides is
that they don't make the argument to the general public. Because they
just assume the conservative view of the use of military force, they
concentrate on the crimes of the guerrillas but do not successfully
defend the need to deal with them by assaulting the whole city.

My quibbles with "liberals" and "conservatives" go back to the '60s
and before when liberals were very likely to be interventionist hawks
and conservatives were somewhat more likely to be isolationists. The
current neocons, for instance, fit more accurately the definition of
liberals that I grew up with. (But then, so do the liberal hawks who
apologize for the neocons and insist on our moral obligation to clean
up after them.) But these days we know who we're talking about even
if we quibble over the labels.